


Show me the mercy in your truth

by RaspberryDevil



Series: shattered bones and truths [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22448386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryDevil/pseuds/RaspberryDevil
Summary: Nobody said that he couldn't be cruel. They assume he's too cheery or mindless. The few people who do realise that he isn't always kind are too baffled by it to properly think about it. And as amusing as it is to prove them wrong, Claude doesn't bask in it, doesn't see it as a victory. And so, in this moment, he knows how cruel he is, looking at Seteth and waiting for him to reveal something which obviously pained him.Or: It's the first time that Claude hears the truth about something and has no idea what to do.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan & Other(s), Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester & Hilda Valentine Goneril
Series: shattered bones and truths [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515560
Kudos: 41





	Show me the mercy in your truth

**Author's Note:**

> And the conclusion to the series, thank you for staying with me! I'm sorry for any canon plothole inaccuracies in advance, I really wanted to explore this but at the same time the game's lore can be confusing. Also if anyone is wondering, the Byleth is male because the Let's Play I watched had chosen the male protagonist, no special meaning here.
> 
> I tried my best and I still hope that you can enjoy this!

The dream starts like this: Claude is on the battlefield next to them, giving orders and focused on their enemy. It's one of those battles which – although cruel to say, considering the death and fatal injuries – not special. One of those fights which allows them to sleep at night because they've gotten used to it.

  
  


Then Claude turns against his friends.

  
  


Hilda lost count of how often she had dreams about this considering the way those scenarios varied in some ways – Failnaught directed at Ignatz, an axe in his hands to stop Marianne or engaged in a swordplay with Byleth. She never dreams of Claude as a demonic beast and considers it a small mercy; it wouldn't have been the first time that one haunted her dreams. The first time she had faced one on the battle field, before the war, it had been a rough night afterwards. But there had been no familiar faces.

  
  


Now, all of the monsters she fights wear her friends' faces.

  
  


It's exhausting, to remember that all of it is a dream, that her friends who do transform because they have no crest and picked up a weapon from their fallen comrades aren't truly demonic beasts beyond salvation.

It does help, sometimes, to focus on details. How the Leonie in her dream doesn't wear the leather armband she had crafted for her after complementing the accessories she had made. Or how the feather on Ignatz' shirt isn't this specific shade of red she chose together with Lorenz to complement his eyes.

She hasn't found the right accessory for Claude yet, to remind her that it's not truly him who aims Failnaught at them. But she's working on that, during the time she can't sleep. Maybe once it's done, it will be easier.

  
  


Though Hilda fears that things just started.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Claude is angry, something Byleth doesn't see very often. But it's hard to miss, obvious in the way he just slightly raises his voice after hearing Rhea's explanation about everything. He's not sure what to make of it, but it's definitely something he has to keep in mind. Otherwise, Claude is going to hide behind his mask again and they are never going to talk about it.

  
  


But now their priority lies on planning what they should do after hearing the truth.

  
  


It's probably best to keep what they heard this day a secret and while Claude normally wouldn't agree, he's probably come to the same conclusion. It's something they can't tell the others – there is no way to imagine how their reaction is going to be. Besides, as harsh as it sounds, they need the hero relics. Maybe once peace is established, not just on the paper, they can give them the burial they deserve, along with a prayer to accompany their rest. He knows that even though Claude doesn't believe in the goddess in the same way they most here do, this is something that he wouldn't mind them doing.

It doesn't occur to him until after he sees the rest of the Golden deer class, after he talks with Ignatz about it, that there might be another reason why Claude is angry. He should have thought of it sooner.

  
  


His own shattered relic.

  
  


Of course.

  
  


The truth shines a new light on everything which has happened to him, on his own relic and the injury. But Byleth can't address that. This is something he can't talk about with the whole Golden deer class without the risk of revealing the truth to those who wield a relic. Maybe he can ask Seteth to approach him, though he might be the last person Claude wants to talk about this with.

  
  


What a mess.

  
  


(But maybe this was good, something not easy to fix telling them that it's the right thing and not a truth fitting their own goals – it's real.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


“I shouldn't be here”, is the first thing Flayn says when she comes to a halt in the front of the cathedral.

  
  


Claude raises his head, gaze shifting from the floor to her. She's looking up to the hole in the ceiling they hadn't fixed yet, so he can take his time taking in her posture before talking.

  
  


“Oh, is that so? I thought I shouldn't be here.”

  
  


She turns around to look at him then, and even though he's smiling, it doesn't reach his eyes. It's not a strange look, reminds her of the way he acted years ago. She thought that he had changed, that she won't have to see this expression again, but trust wasn't this easily gained. She can't fault him for this. And she won't let this stop her.

  
  


“Nonsense. The cathedral is always open to anyone.”

  
  


“Well, who isn't allowing you to be here then?”, he wants to know and he isn't fooling anyone at this point, really, because he knows; even though Flayn isn't sure if he figured out everything, she knows exactly that he might draw the connection soon.

  
  


“You see, I was talking to Ignatz”, she starts the conversation and takes a place on the pew next to him, “and he mentioned you needed some... cheering up.”

  
  


Most of the people in his place would be asking for guidance, praying to the goddess to grant them a wish. All Claude needs is a place which allows him to sort his thoughts, allows him to think without anyone interrupting. The Golden Deer will eventually seek him out, but he will only allow them to find him when he chooses it. That's also why he doesn't really desire any cheering up. Flayn doesn't let this irritate her.

  
  


“I don't claim to know what happened. It's just that I had a hunch, you see? And I was thinking to myself ' _Flayn, those are you former classmates, you can't just leave them to handle everything on their own_ ' and so I'm here.”

  
  


“How very kind of you.”

  
  


His tone is strange and it might be considered mocking in any other situation. But it doesn't sound like him. So she just replies like she thinks is the best way.

  
  


“I'm not sure if it's kindness, but nevertheless... sometimes, it helps to share. To lessen the burden.”

  
  


Tilting back his head, he takes a moment. Just when she thinks that he won't say anything at all, he starts speaking.

  
  


“I don't remember much from those four days I've been bedridden. I barely realised what I dreamed about, and yet... hearing Rhea tell us what these weapons truly are made of lead me to wonder... if the person I saw in my dreams... Were it just memories left behind? Or more?”

  
  


What does it mean for us, is another question he has but which answer he fears. And he hates this feeling. Seeking truths – hearing them – should be rewarding, stilling his curiosity as well as giving him information to advance his plans. This, however, is not the case with Seiros. And he truly does not like it.

  
  


“Maybe you can talk to Ignatz? He's painting Cathleen, did you know? Maybe he wouldn't mind painting that person as well? As the children of the goddess, I bet they look similar. I wouldn't mind seeing it as well. How beautiful have they been? Ignatz always catches the beauty of a person.”

  
  


“There isn't much beauty to find in gore and blood”, Claude says, but it sounds a lot like ' _who knows, who cares_ ' which catches her off-guard.

  
  


He doesn't even bother to pretend that he likes this conversation, though at the same time, he doesn't seem to take any offence. When she remains silent, he sighs.

  
  


“I felt their pain. I thought it was mine but it was theirs and I'm not sure what even happened, who did this to them. But now...”, he trails off.

  
  


Now he had a vague guess, he could assemble the pieces and didn't like it. It made sense but at the same time, it was too cruel to think about it.

  
  


“Thank you for your words, but at the moment, it's not something I like to dwell on”, is the reply he eventually settles on.

  
  


Thankfully, Flayn accepts it, doesn't say anything else. She leaves, but he doesn't stay alone for long. Unfortunately.

  
  


“I walked by the cathedral and saw you sitting here. I thought it is interesting to find you here alone...”

  
  


Seteth. Claude had really hoped that he wasn't going to approach him. For various reasons, one being that he had known most of this – had taken away important information from the library – and Claude still doesn't know what the right thing was. At least he faces him with his back; Claude can admit to himself that he doesn't want to look him in the eyes.

  
  


“You were grabbing your shoulder again. I realised that you've done this rather often lately. I hope you're not in pain.”

  
  


Ah. Claude balls his hand to a fist. He tries to make sure that his body doesn't betray him, but it's probably the same with craving the other one's closeness – he's too exhausted to fool those who are close to him.

  
  


“Have I thanked you yet?”, Seteth wonders, catching Claude off-guard with the change of topic, “I'm sure I thanked Byleth, but I'm not sure about you. You never really cared much for Rhea I know this, but using Byleth to – Oh, forgive me, that sound harsh. Let's say, using his position, yes, that it's. Anyway, you helped Rhea because you searched for answers.”

  
  


Claude thinks that he doesn't expect a reply, so he doesn't answer.

  
  


“And you got one. Not the one you had hoped for, yet you accept it, even if it brings you great pain. I think this speaks a lot about your character. Some might call it admirable. Or foolish.”

  
  


Seteth sounds honest, not like he's lecturing him, which is appreciated. Still. Claude is really not in the mood to be analysed by someone of the church, so he stops him with a question of his own.

  
  


“Tell me, can I ask you a question which you'll answer seriously?”

  
  


“Well, I think you deserve one at this point. Go ahead, I can't promise anything though. I'm quite knowledgeable, but even I'm not omniscient, which would be rather foolish to assume.”

  
  


“Failnaught was quiet big and I was wondering what part of a body it had been. And don't get me wrong, I know you can assemble various bones, but”, and here Claude takes a deep breath, and wonders what his life had come to, “I don't believe it.”

  
  


Nobody said that he couldn't be cruel. They assume he's too cheery or mindless. The few people who do realise that he isn't always kind are too baffled by it to properly think about it. And as amusing as it is to prove them wrong, Claude doesn't bask in it, doesn't see it as a victory. And so, in this moment, he knows how cruel he is, looking at Seteth and waiting for him to reveal something which obviously pained him.

  
  


“I can't say that I know. It's shameful to say, but as a leader, I think you understand that it's not possible to know any name or face. However, in this case, it's easy to make a guess. Part of a wing, I assume. You saw it on the battlefield five... almost six years ago.”

  
  


“The dragon. That was Rhea”, Claude guesses, doesn't miss the way the other one frowns at the word 'dragon' as if there was a different word for it, but doesn't push it.

  
  


“Yes. Most died as... humans. But not all of them.”

  
  


He's obvious reluctant to continue, so Claude, exhaling a deep breath, thanks him. Maybe other people would have apologised. Claude doesn't. It didn't feel like something which would have been appreciated.

  
  


“It's fine. It's in the past.”

  
  


“But it still hurts”, Claude mumbles to himself; he doesn't look up and Seteth doesn't say anything else when he leaves, his steps echoing in the hall.

  
  


That night, Claude dreams again. It's different than usual. He knows, he really _really_ knows that it's not possible. That the person can't communicate with him. It maybe be a trick of his mind. But here they are, looking at him and with a smile which reminds him of Teach. Not just the smile. The way they hold themselves, something he sometimes does unconsciously on the battlefield – shoulders pushed back, head slightly raised as if he's waiting for something.

  
  


Claude steps forward and reaches out. They don't move. He plans to place a hand on their shoulder, acting against anything inside him screaming not to do that, but before he reaches it, they grasp his injured arm.

  
  


And it makes him want to scream.

  
  


It's not a firm grip, just a gentle touch. But it's showing him emotions he thought were impossible to feel all at once. There is so much. It's too much. He can't deal with it. The pain they had felt to being used. To being helpless. Betrayed. Anger and then just sadness. So much anger that it - Claude wakes up. No. He's back on the Field of Gronder. It's a sea of blood. Not from the Children of the Goddess. It's a different kind of tragedy. Yet he had the feel that he could have stopped this. This is the worst feeling, wondering and thinking about other outcomes, what ifs enough to fill a lifetime.

  
  


Claude wakes up before he can identify any body.

  
  


He sits up, trying to calm his breathing. Why was he so shaken by a dream? He hates himself as soon as he realises that he's grabbing his right shoulder again. Seteth is right, he should get rid of this habit, it's leaving him open to observation. If his friends can read him, it's one thing. If the other's do, it's another one.

  
  


Pulling his shirt over his head, he looks as his shoulder, a reminder, and pauses. Is it a trick of his mind? Maybe it's the light in the room, but they seem brighter. He's probably loosing his mind. The colours seem to have shifted from black to green, a teal colour. Maybe he's going to pay a visit to Manuela, later. Allowing her to take a look at it. He probably won't.

  
  


With a frustrated sigh, he puts on his shirt again. Since he's awake, he can just start the day a bit earlier. Mediation, routine, always sounds like a good plan.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Hilda knows that something had happened. That Rhea must have had told Claude the truth he had relentlessly searched for. It's one of the things she admired about him. That he doesn't intend to hear things to undermine his own view, searching 'the' truth and matching it with his own belief but to search for a truth which makes sense in light of the information he has and doesn't have.

  
  


She knows that Ignatz knew, that Rapahel kind of knew; maybe there is a connection that the commoners know. No, the crestless. And maybe she is a bit angry, to be kept in the dark. But she believes in Claude, she knows that if he withdrew information it was for a good reason. She trusts him, Lorenz trusts him. It is a big thing to achieve. Even though he wants to know about it as well.

  
  


“I'm sure Claude will tell us if he thinks that the time is right, but I still can't help being curious, it's in human nature, you see. And so I wait”, Lorenz tells her when she asks him whether he's annoyed with their friend.

  
  


He sounds so amused and it's amazing that they think like this about the person they couldn't agree on first. Oh, how things could change.

  
  


“Hilda, can I confess something to you?”

  
  


“Oh, is the Gloucester boy going to share some secrets with me?”

  
  


“Please don't call me that. And it's not a secret, I don't think so.”

  
  


Hilda is curious, so she nods. Lorenz looks off into the distance and then he continues in a quieter, softer voice.

  
  


“I dream of it, sometimes. After the battle at Gronder, it had been even worse. I see our former house leaders. Dimitri who is focused on Edelgard and doesn't pay Claude any mind. Edelgard who is screaming, asking Claude why he had shown up without Failnaught. It's then that Dimitri looked at Claude. His eyes had been a different colour and his hair had a shimmer of teal. I don't know what he said. I just remember how he raised his sword – a weapon I've never seen him use before – and watched him kill them. Nobody of us had been able to stop him, and the only person who might have – our dear professor – hadn't been present.

Was he going to attack us next? Thankfully, I woke up before I could find out about it.”

  
  


She places a hand on his shoulder. So she hadn't been the only one then which was to be expected.

  
  


“Sometimes, it had been Edelgard as well, awaiting us as a beast, leading to Lysithea throwing herself in front of the troupes to stop her. In rare moments, it's Dimitri who despite of his anger doesn't turn against the former Blue lions but solely focuses on Edelgard, his single eye glowing red and driven by a twisted hatred.”

  
  


But while those sights shook him as well, it didn't hurt as much as seeing their friend Claude in this state. Lorenz doesn't want to fool himself. Not anymore. While he hadn't been sure at the beginning, now he's pretty sure that he's dreaming of them being controlled by their weapons. Which is ridiculous, to think that a weapon has enough power – enough self-conscious – to do so. And yet... his own weapon, Thyrsus, could be unsettling as well. Once he'd realised that, it didn't seem as weird as before

(Lorenz tries not to think about it, the dream he had once, his own magic running wild and the feel of Thyrus in his hand, a heavy weight he feels in his whole body, and -)

  
  


“In my dream he called him kingliness”, Hilda shares, interrupting his thoughts “as if Dimitri had still been the boy he had met at the academy. And he called Edelgard 'my lady' like he had done during the ball . Do you remember? When he had asked her to dance with him just a second before Dorothea had come. Ah, the face he had made when she had accepted her hand instead of his. Haven't seen this one in a while.”

  
  


He does remember, how Claude had tried to dance with as many people as possible, and chuckles, but his small smile soon turns a tad sad.

  
  


“I'm sorry, it was rather grim to think of.”

  
  


“No it's fine, as long as it's not the truth.”

  
  


And never will be, she thinks, hopes.

  
  


“I always do what is expected of me. What helps us or the commoners, I try to look at the big picture. So when he had been injured, lying there in pain, I thought, for just a second: What if we can't save him? What can I personally do to help? And then I thought: What if we had to cut off his arm, the source of his pain? I doubted that any of you were capable of it, that I might be the only one who can do this, who had to do it...”

  
  


She doesn't interrupt him, grips his shoulder a bit harder. He doesn't realise, lost in his own thoughts.

  
  


“I'd be fatal for him, not being able to wield a bow. Even though he'd still have his wits to lead us. He's good with an axe, maybe he can learn to wield one with his left, I thought. I saw mercenaries wielding a weapon with just one arm. Can you imagine it though? I'm sure he wouldn't give up, accept our, _my_ , decision. He'd be the first to agree, he's a Tactician who'd understand these kind of sacrifices. But, oh, he would be so insufferable. He'd complain and blame me, in a teasingly manner of course, just to see how flustered I am.”

  
  


(And he'd end up feeling guilty because he's the one being embarrassed when Claude is the one who lost his arm. Which Claude will pick up on and lead to them having a serious conversation. Lorenz is glad that it won't happen.)

  
  


“But he would be alive.”

  
  


“Yes”

  
  


There is a short pause.

  
  


“I'm glad that you didn't cut off his arm”

  
  


“Me too.”

  
  


“You wouldn't have been able to do this.”

  
  


Lorenz barks a laughter. How obvious. Is he really that transparent?

  
  


“No, I wouldn't have been. But I like to think that I'm capable of things like these. Yet I'm not even sure if I can stop him.”

  
  


Hilda realises that they aren't talking about the fight any more, the last part broader. She isn't sure whether she should comment on it. She decides against it. There had been too many thoughts exchanged. Making them feel vulnerable enough.

  
  


(That night, neither dreams, another small mercy.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Can you tell me about a prayer?”

  
  


“A prayer? What kind of?”

  
  


Marianne is surprised that Claude approaches her at the stalls. It's been a while since they've talked, so being approached because of that seems... concerning.

  
  


“I'm not sure. Something to do after someone died? I don't know which one I know would be accurate, so I'd like to hear one of the church and just see.”

  
  


He doesn't look her in the eyes and even though he has been rather open to her about his past, it's always been like a code, not as direct as he's now. She's so caught off-guard that she doesn't comment on it.

  
  


“Claude? Are you okay?”

  
  


“Nope.”

  
  


And he looks so nonchalant about it, it takes Marianne a moment to see the rings under his eyes. And his posture... they should be happy, they found Rhea, made progress with the enemy in the shadows. But it's not easy on him, whatever she might have told them. Some part of her wanted to know, but since Claude hadn't told her, she assumes it's not going to be relevant.

  
  


(Even if his belief is different than hers, he respects her, can't tell her that Seiros is Rhea, can't tell her the truth about these cursed crests. Because she's come so far as a person and maybe he understands Seteth a bit better now.)

  
  


“I can show you one. It's a small prayer. It's for the death. To cherish and honour -“

  
  


“their sacrifice? No, I think I'm done with that, people's death being considered as something which had to happen.”

  
  


“No, it's to thank them for existing”, she says, not bothered by him interrupting her, forgiving since he seems exhausted, not like himself.

  
  


“Even though you didn't know them?”, he wonders, raising an eyebrow when she shakes her head, a small smile appearing on her lips.

  
  


“It's not about that. Sometimes, an existence had an influence on your life and you want to thank them”

  
  


He seems to consider her words, then, unexpectedly, asks “What if I want to curse them?”

  
  


“You don't”, she immediately counters, without hesitation, “That's not like you.”

  
  


He looks caught off-guard, (he's full of surprises today, she thinks), but then laughs. She probably missed something here, but he doesn't elaborate and she doesn't ask. At least he smiles now.

  
  


“You're right. Oh, Marianne, what would I do without you?”, he's teasing, but also honest, so she returns the favour.

  
  


“You wouldn't be here and ask about a prayer.”

  
  


“Was this a joke? Did my dear Marianne just make a joke?”

  
  


“Come here. I show you”, she replies, still smiling when Claude closes the distance and allows her to teach him something.

  
  


(His 'thank you' stays unspoken, but she still knows he's grateful when she looks at him; some things don't need to be said.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


Seteth kept the stone in a pretty wooden box. While the shards of the bow – the bones – are in a leather pouch, it's velvet which keeps the stone protected. Kept it as if he had been knowing that it is precious. More than a stone.

  
  


Claude takes it out of the box. It's warm in his hands. Maybe it feels like this because his hands are cold. At least they are smooth from missing practise and the balm Manuela gave him, so it feels less like a warrior holding it.

He wonders if there is any mercy to be found in this. It's probably just his own conscience he wants to clear, or so some might say. Normally, Claude would deny such accusation. But nobody knows what he's doing – though Seteth might suspect – and there is nobody he has to defend himself in front of. Good. Because this is just between him and the Child of the Goddess.

  
  


He holds their heart in his hands and prays.

  
  


(He doesn't dream about them again.)

  
  


* * *

That evening, Byleth joins Claude in his room. Claude hadn't been in a mood to continue today's war council in the usual room and Byleth seemed fine to do so in the leader's own one. It's cleaned up, with books in the shelves and documents sorted on a tray, courtesy of Lorenz who couldn't deal with the missing organisation.

  
  


(“An organised room helps with the overall feeling of inner peace while recovery”, Lorenz had told Claude while he'd been dozing, making as little noise as possible while sorting the stuff he had been given permission to look at.)

  
  


“I wonder if your crest of Riegan had helped you”, Byleth starts when Claude doesn't seem sure about his own words, “We learned that the blood wasn't given willingly, so of course your body could have rejected it. But at the same time, it could have healed you.”

  
  


Byleth had a good point.

  
  


“Maybe”, Claude replies, causing Byleth to raise an eyebrow, frowning.

  
  


“If you don't want to talk about it, we -”

  
  


“No, it's fine. I guess this is payback for all the times I had been and will be nosy.”

  
  


“Claude...”

  
  


There is no pity in Byleth's tone, that's why he appreciates him. But concern can get annoying as well; they are closer in age now, Claude is a leader, but he can't help being worried as his teacher, doesn't want to burden him.

  
  


That's why it is a refreshing prospect to train with Leonie the next day. Maybe he can coax her into a longer training session than usual, just to get back in shape again. Or they go a bit hunting together. Even though she admitted to be a poor judge of character, she'll be able to tell that he's up to something. And yet he's sure that she'll indulge him.

Maybe, afterwards, he'll join Raphael and Ignatz. He's still not sure if he's going to take up Ignatz on his offer (which he probably made after Flayn talked him into it), but he likes watching him paint. So does Raphael. They'll share some snacks and let the day pass. It's the last one he'll allow himself to relax. After all, they have a goal now.

  
  


“We need to adjust our strategy. I doubt we have to throw away the whole plan, but we need to rework some parts”, he eventually says, dropping the talk about his past injury after all.

  
  


“You're right", Byleth agrees, doesn't mind to leave it at that for now, “Let's focus on Nemesis. It's time.”

  
  


“Okay”, Claude says, taking a deep breath, “here is the plan.”

  
  


If his recovery had shown him one thing, then it was that he can count on the others. They'll follow him. A year ago, this hadn't been something he'd been sure about. It's still not easy to share everything with them. Old habits die hard. However, he won't falter with his plans.

  
  


They were reaching this New Dawn. Together. And it won't be the last thing he'd do in his life.

  
  


This is just the start.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and following this short series! I had writer's block for this last part because I ended up reading too much fandom discourse. Also I was worried about disappointing you with this conclusion, so that didn't help. But I'm glad I got over it and finished it now. If I missed a tag, feel free to tell me!
> 
> I have no idea if I'll write about fe3h again but if I do, please bear with me again :D


End file.
